The Other Ranger
by Silmarilz1701
Summary: Miril was but a young child when Halbarad adopted her and her brother into his life. Growing up surrounded by Aragorn and his rangers, Miril learned the ways of the wild. A trusted companion of any ranger, she guards Middle Earth with her life. But will that prove to be enough this time?
1. Disbelief

_A/N: Welcome! This story mixes themes from the Silmarillion into the third age of Middle Earth! All I suggest before reading this work is that you brush up on your Feanorians. However, this can be read without any Silmarillion knowledge._

_This is going to eventually be a variation of the Tenth Walker idea, but it won't be one exactly. It will, in many cases, branch away from the book and explore moments in the text where Tolkien chose not to elaborate on events. There will be the occasional book dialogue. Tenth-walker events will not occur for a long time._

* * *

**Prologue**

Míril sat with her legs dangling from a small tree at the camp's entrance. As usual, she was waiting for Halbarad, Aragorn, and Eldir to return. Though only her adopted father, Míril loved Halbarad greatly, but it was her brother Eldir who was her best friend.

To her nine year old mind, her twenty-one year old brother was everything. Eldir was her protection, her strength, her courage. He told her stories of their mother and father, Gilrin and Orelon, and he praised her left and right. The only thing that Eldir and Míril disagreed on was whether or not she could become a ranger. Her brother forbid it, saying he would not be responsible for her death. Míril, on the other hand, was adamant about joining the fight, and was quick to point out how Eldir put himself in danger constantly as a ranger.

The sound of shouting pulled Míril from her thoughts and she strained to see what was happening. Quite a few grown-ups had gathered near the camp entrance and they were blocking her view. Finally she caught a glimpse of what they were looking at.

Blood. Whatever it was was covered in blood. Maybe it was a particularly large animal that had been caught? No, that couldn't be it, someone was crying. That's when she recognized Aragorn. He looked beat up with scrapes and bruises and a nasty looking head wound. But at least it didn't look fatal. At last Míril found Halbarad. He looked little better than Aragorn, and Míril thought that both men were acting rather strangely. Pulling her gaze away from them, she looked further for Eldir. Surely he was there somewhere.

The crowd parted and the dunedain went their seperate ways. Some followed the two injured men to help care for them. Some stayed with the bloody shape. And still others were pushing children into houses or around corners.

Míril didn't believe what she was seeing. She couldn't. But she found herself sliding out of the tree and walking slowlt towards the body. For body it was. Eldir, chest torn and face clawed, was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. She stood about ten paces away, blocking out the world around her. Míril didn't notice the women coming with cloth to wipe up the blood and clean the body. She merely stared at her brother's unmoving form.

Then all of a sudden she closed her eyes and screamed. They were red with unshed tears as Míril turned away and walked, then ran, from the dreadful scene. The other men and women watched sadly as she took off.

Aragorn and Halbarad sat silently in a tent, their injuries being treated. They jumped when a sound so full of agony and hopelessness came from outside. Both men looked helplessly at each other, knowing exactly who belonged to that horrible scream but not knowing what to do about Míril.

"Should we tell her?" Halbarad asked Aragorn as the two were left alone in the tent to rest.

"Do you really think it'd be a good idea," Aragorn replied, a sarcastic tone to his voice.

Halbarad grunted in agreement, "Then what will we tell her?"

Míril collapsed in a corner of camp from exhaustion, her face flushed red from crying. She huddled into a ball and trying not to think about what she'd seen.

Míril was hidden from most of the rangers and they gave the girl her space. After all, most of them knew the pain she was going through; They knew she would recover in time. The Dunedain would be there for her.


	2. Well Met

Míril was getting worried. Gandalf hadn't been seen for a very long time, but even more worrisome was his lack of contact. In fact, if not for the message Gildor Inglorian was spreading, she wouldn't even have known that things weren't going according to plan.

What if Aragorn hadn't heard? She knew he was watching the roads but he couldn't be everywhere at once! The halfling was leaving the Shire without a guide. But the most dire of all the news was that the Nazgûl were on his trail. She'd heard whispers and rumors that four riders had attacked the Prancing Pony the previous night.

That was why Míril was in Bree. Indeed, she found the town in an uproar. Stolen horses, disappearing hobbits, and black riders in the night.

"And that there Strider too! Those four hobbits taking up with a folk like that ain't right, I says. And I means what I says," a hobbit called Mugwyrm or Mugwort or something was telling three other hobbits.

Strider! She breathed a sigh of relief. At least Aragorn was with the halflings. Míril decided she had time to grab a pint at the Prancing Pony before setting off to find the little group. She threw back her hood, revealing her beautiful chocolate brown hair that fell loosly about her shoulders. She stepped inside the inn and turned to walk into the common room when she was rudely interrupted.

"Get out, pointy ears," a man of normal height spat at her feet. He and his buddies were blocking the door way.

"Excuse me?" Míril blinked in surprise.

"We've had enough of you rangers. All you do is cause trouble," another patron of the inn exclaimed from behind the three men.

"I am sorry, but I need to ask you to leave before violence breaks out," Barliman Butterbur said from behind her.

Míril narrowed her eyes, "Very well. But might I ask where Ar- Strider was headed?"

"I'm afraid I can't remember! Honest! Ask around. Maybe ol' Nob knows!" Butterbur turned to a hobbit .

"You needed me sir?" Nob asked.

"Where'd old Strider head off to?"

"Oh just follow the road past Bill Ferny's house."

Míril nodded and dropped a few coins on the counter for their services before leaving the inn. She followed the path out of Bree and towards Archet, scanning the road for tracks. They weren't too difficult to find, but Míril was surprised that they were on the road.

Laughter caused Míril to turn around as she passed Bill Ferny's house. There the old man was, grinning at her mischievously from his porch and laughing.

"Hello, Pointy Ears! Leaving Bree so soon?"

"Find something better to do, Ferny," she sighed.

Ferny just laughed again, "What are you going to do? Stick me to death with those ears?"

Míril turned away and kept walking.

"That's right. Run to your boyfriend and the halflings!" he shouted after her.

"Boyfriend? Really?" Míril rolled her eyes and said under her breath, "Aragorn is old enough to be my uncle!"

She almost missed the point at which the faint trail she was following veered off into the woods.

"Midgewater Marshes," she groaned, "Of course he'd take them that way."

Straightening up, Míril put her hood back over her head and ducked into the trees. She had a job to do, and couldn't let her fear of the neeker-breekers stop her, no matter how much she hated them.

As she walked, she reflected on her fear of bugs. She'd always been afraid of them, at least for as long as she could remember. Míril used to make Eldir squish any bug that was inside the house or near her. Yet now as a ranger she needed to steel herself and prepare to enter those infamous marshes.

It took two days of walking before Míril exited the Chetwood and came upon the marshes. Suddenly her foot sank into the ground, water pooling around it.

"Found the swamp," Míril grumbled as she struggled to pull her foot out.

Grabbing a thick, long stick she used it to poke the ground in front of her. This way she hoped to avoid the stinking pools of marsh water and make quick time. She had no doubt that Aragorn knew these paths well, much better than she did, and therefore she was loosing time on them.

A large fly buzzed past her ear, causing Míril to give a gasp and almost trip. Once more she prayed to Iluvatar for help.

"Lady Yavannah, help me endure you and your sister's creatures that abode in this foresaken marsh," Míril muttered, regaining her balance.

She considered praying to Oromë for help, because he might help her hunt them away, but then she reflected on how stupid that idea was. No, she'd need to do this the hard way.

She decided to set up camp around midnight. The neeker-breekers were intensely loud, the gnats were simply intolerable, and she was tired. Míril decided that building a fire was necessary and worth any risk. Besides, she was so far out, who would see it? Aragorn? That would save her a lot of trouble anyways!

* * *

After another day of walking, Míril was relieved to find herself on solid ground. She'd gotten out of the marshes and figured it'd best to keep walking for as long as she could in the dark. Sticking to the faint but ever-present trail, Míril continued on.

She wasn't worried about loosing the trail. She new the path well that Aragorn was following. Unmarked and unrecorded, yet known to most rangers, it was specifically designed to be as obscure and secretive as possible.

After hours of walking, she fancied she saw a fire. Small and dim, but still present, it was next to a small stream and under some alder trees. Drawing her long knife, Míril krept quietly forward, her dark clothing shrouding her in the shadows. She didn't want to take any chances. Peering into the gloom she decided that if they were orcs, they wouldn't use a fire. She'd have to risk getting the men's attention.

"Mae govannen, mellon," she spoke aloud.

Instantly the unsheathing of a sword was heard and a figure leaped up from behind the fire. In response, Míril also drew her shortsword and stepped out from hiding behind a lone tree. Bringing her sword up, she just had time to block her attacker's swing. Míril pushed back with all her might and managed to get free from her imprisonment between sword and tree. Swinging her sword at the man's torso, she found her arm exposed. Before she could pull it back, the larger man had pinned her arn against the tree trunk and knocked the blade from her grasp.

Using her left hand, Míril drew her long knife but before she could twist her right arm free, the attacker used his weight to crush her against the tree. As she crumpled to the ground she barely noticed that the man didn't finish her off.

Suddenly she felt bright light on her face as a torch was brought by some newcomer. She gave grunt and closed her eyes tight against the blaze. She vaguely realized that a sword was being used to push back her cloak hood.

"Míril?!"

"Yes."

"I had no idea it was you!'

"Evidently."

She opened her eyes and found Aragorn crouched down in front of her. He took her hands in his and smiled.

"Sorry about that," he grimaced, helping her up, "How bad did I hurt you?"

"Nothing too bad. Just a sore wrist," she assured him.

"Good," he nodded, "Now. What in the Valar's names are you doing here?"

Míril smirked but then her fave grew grave, "Looking for you. I'd gotten word from Inglorian about the halflings."

"Strider! Who's that?" a new voice chipped in. Both rangers turned to see four hobbits all standing next to the fire, obviously ill at ease, two with weapons drawn.

"Míril, a friend and fellow ranger," Aragon told the four friends, "so you and Sam can put away your swords, Pippin."

Míril smiled and bowed to the hobbits slightly. She winced and slid back down the tree to a sitting position, grabbing at her side and struggling to catch her breath.

"Guess I'm hurt a bit more than just a sprained wrist," she tried to joke lightly.

Aragorn frowned, "Come on, let's get you over by the fire. Halbarad would never forgive me if I didn't fix you up."

She nodded and, with Aragorn's support, hobbled over to the campfire. The hobbits watched carefully. Aragorn slid the other ranger's shirt up so he could examine her torso. There was already a nasty black bruise beginning to form on the side he had bashed against the tree.

"Could have been worse," she tried to remind a guilty looking Aragorn.

The older man gave her a raised eyebrow before reaching into a nearby pack and pulling out some torn rags. He used water from the heated pot they'd hung over the fire to soak these rags and then wiped her sore. As soon as it was dry, Aragorn took some longer, dry rags and wrapped them around Míril's torso.

"Thanks," she smiled.

Aragorn nodded and sat back, "I thought you were busy near Lake Evendim? Checking out leads on the matter we'd discussed?"

Míril nodded, "I was, but as of a few weeks ago the trail went cold and I lost sight of them. None of the residents around their had any useful information, so I alerted most of the local companies to keep an eye out. They know to send me word of any activity up there. Any news of my father?"

"I had Halbarad in charge of the Shire patrols while I was away. When I came back, he took a small group of men farther north. He wanted to scout out around Lake Uial since you were taking care of Lake Evendim," Aragorn explained to her. He waited for Míril to continue her tale.

"Well anyways, as I was on my way through the Shire, I ran into Gildor's party. They told me that Gandalf was missing, and that some hobbits were leaving the Shire. Worst of all," she lowered her voice, "he told me that at least one of the Nine had crossed the river. Is it true, Aragorn? I heard rumors in Breeland and near the Prancing Pony too."

"Yes, it is," he nodded seriously, "Four attacked us while we stayed there some nights ago. Fortunately I found Mr. Baggins and his company before that."

Míril turned to the hobbits once again and smiled, "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Peregrine Took, those most call me Pippin," answered the young, sandy-haired hobbit that had spoken earlier.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry for short," the brown headed one next to Pippin told her.

"Sam Gamgee, ma'am," said the slightly more plump one.

Finally a hobbit with dark hair and a serious expression spoke, saying, "I am Frodo Baggins."


	3. Familiar Memories

"Indeed," she murmured. Míril's bright blue-grey eyes peered into Frodo's gaze and searched his face for answers. Finding no lies or deceit there, she tore away her stare and returned her attention to Aragorn.

"Any news from Mithrandir, Aragorn?"

He shook his head no, "None. It seems that some news must have reached him while I was away and unable to help. When I came back I rushed to find the hobbits."

"Excuse me, Strider, but who is this?" Frodo interrupted, staring suspiciously at Míril.

"She is Míril Lôminzil, which is Night-Flower in the common tongue. She is a ranger, like I am," Aragorn explained.

"Lôminzil means night-flower," she elaborated, "Míril is my given name, and that means Shining Jewel."

Pippin cocked his head to the side, "Are you an elf?"

Míril laughed softlt and subconsciously her hand went to her ear, "No, not fully. I am part elf, however. My parents were killed when I was very young, and Aragorn's friend and respected ranger of the Dunedain, Halbarad, took us in as children. Me and my brother, that is."

"We should get some rest. I'll stay guard for the rest of the night," Aragorn announced.

"I won't fight you on this one," Míril nodded, shifting herself onto her back and using the pack she'd brought along as a pillow. She was asleep in no time, having walked since daybreak almost without stopping. Boy did she need the sleep!

When morning dawned, the six companions made a quick breakfast before packing up. It was decided that Míril would journey with them until further notice.

"It has been too long since I visited the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond in Rivendell," she commented wistfully.

"You've been to Rivendell?" Frodo asked, surprised.

Míril nodded, "I lived there for a few years, learning from the elves. Because I am half-elven, I wanted to learn about that side of my ancestory."

"One thing I don't quite understand is how you were able to catch us, if you really were a full day behind us," Sam pondered aloud.

"My elf ancestory gives me enhanced stamina. I can go longer periods of time without sleep or food, so I walked straight through many of the nights."

They began the day's journey soon after this. Aragorn took up the lead, asking Míril to act as rear guard. Frodo remained near to Aragorn for the majority of the day, except at one point where he dropped back to ask Míril a question.

"I've been wondering," he began hesitantly, "Since you have ancestors both mortal and immortal, which are you?"

"A fair question," she nodded, shaking some dead leaves off her foot as she walked, "In a sense, I am both. As far as I know, I will die a mortal's death. It is, however, true that I have aged slower than most men. Go on, guess my age."

Frodo was caught off guard by the question. He looked at her face and furrowed his brow in thought.

"I'd say you were no older than 20," Frodo guessed eventually with a frown. In fact, that was one thing that had confused him. She looked much too young to be of any help to them.

"A good guess. But I am, in fact, 39," she smiled.

Frodo looked at her in surprise, and then his gaze wandered to Strider. How old was he then?

Míril chuckled, "Appearances are not always what they seem."

Frodo nodded absentmindedly as he made his way back up front. Míril was obviously much more experienced than he'd assumed. And what did that make Strider? As far as he knew, Strider had no elven blood, but Frodo wasn't entirely sure.

The journey went on with out much talk for many hours. The hobbits were still not conditioned like the Rangers for the kind of heavy trekking this called for, and were often out of breath. It was about half way through the day when the Weather Hills came into view. Ruined towers and crumbling walls could be seen on the hills and ridges, testaments to a time long past.

Pippin and Merry had many questions about the ruins. Aragorn and Míril did their best to answer them. Who had built them? Why had they built them? What were they for? They camped at the foot of the Weather Hills that evening.

"Tomorrow we should reach Weathertop. It is a high ruined tower that we can take shelter in. If Gandalf comes after us, or is before us, that is where he will head," Aragorn explained.

Míril nodded, "And the path to get their is well hidden and secret."

"And if Gandalf isn't there?" Frodo asked them.

Aragorn answered the hobbit quickly, "We will make for Rivendell."

The hobbits went to sleep soon enough, leaving Aragorn and Míril to watch.

"Aragorn," Míril asked concerned, "has there been news about the other five Nazgûl?"

"No. I only know of four that crossed the River. But this doesn't mean the five have not."

"What are the odds that they have made for Weathertop?"

Aragorn looked at her grimly, "Quite high. But we have little choice."

Míril nodded. She knew this, but it didn't put her any more at ease. She'd hoped Aragorn wouldn't confirm her fears. They sat in the dark, Aragorn smoking a pipe and Míril playing with the pendant she always wore.

"Aragorn," she began some time later, breaking the silence. "I thought most of the wargs of the Misty Mountains and the Emyn Uial had been wiped out after the Battle of the Five Armies. I've been tracking these beasts for so many years, but this only just occured to me. Why are they here at all?"

Aragorn took the pipe out of his mouth and blew a smoke ring. Míril knew this as a sign that he was thinking carefully about this matter.

"Perhaps the Enemy simply wishes to extend his grasp again over the northern lands. Eradicate the Dunedain once and for all," he suggested.

Míril nodded absentmindedly. Maybe that really was all it was. Just more of the same thing. In fact, what else could it be? She'd asked a stupid question. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more.

"You need to rest, Aragorn. I'll take watch tonight."

He grudgingly agreed and soon Míril was left awake to guard the perilous company.

They headed along the path south the next morning. It was still rather early when they departed, but both of the big people deemed this necessary. The path they were on was cunningly hidden; where it would otherwise be left in the open, rocks lined the path that nonetheless blended in with the surroundings. Later in the morning, Sam treated them to a recitation of the Fall of Gil-galad. It wasn't until midday that they rested. The company found a shallow dell at the western foot of the hill.

"Frodo, Merry, come with me. We are going to scout the ruins," Aragorn announced.

"What shall we do!" Pippin shouted in dismay.

Míril laughed, "No worries, Pippin. We need to take a look around here for any sign of Gandalf!"

Aragorn shot her a look of gratitude before leading the two selected hobbits up the hill. Míril turned to Pippin and Sam.

"I'm going to take a look around here. Its possible Gandalf left a mark on the rock wall," she told them. She began to scan the face of the cliff that composed the back edge of the dell for signs of recent activity.

Pippin and Sam explored the rest of the dell. They found a stack of firewood and an old burnt out fire pit. Foot prints were all around it but the hobbits forgot to leave these and instead trampled the evidence.

"We've found something," Sam called to her.

Míril quickly jogged to where the two hobbits were and looked around at the camp site.

"Obviously this was used recently. I can't imagine much more than a week ago. Were there any foot prints?"

"Some rather big ones yes, made with large, heavy boots," Sam described to her.

She considered this for a moment. Her train of thought was interrupted when the other three members of the party returned to the dell moments later.

"Any sign of Gandalf," Míril called over to them, her tone hopeful.

"Perhaps," Aragorn tossed a rock about the size of her palm to Míril, "Take a look at that."

"It almost looks like a G rune. G and then three marks," she mused, turning it over in her hand, "Maybe Gandalf was here on October the 3rd?"

"That was our thought. Have you made progress here?"

"The hobbits found an old camp site. Firewood and a fire pit. The foot prints were trampled though."

"There's still no way to tell if it was indeed Gandalf! The marks could be messages intended for various Rangers. Its common for the Dunedain to leave such notices."

"But Aragorn, if it was Gandalf who left the rune, what would it mean," Pippin asked.

"Most likely, it would mean that he was in danger and could not wait for us. And if that is so, we need to be extra careful."

"What should we do, Aragorn?" Frodo questioned him, the concern and fear evident in his wavering voice.

"Fire. Fire is our best friend against the Black Riders. They will come, I have little doubt," he made no mention to the others of his sightings from the Weathertop ruins of the black riders approaching.

They set to building a fire, using the extra wood that Pippin and Sam had found in the dell. To distract themselves from the dark, Aragorn recited for them the Song of Beren and Luthien. They sat around the fire with their backs to the blaze, peering out into the gloom. Míril listened, her mind wandering among the linden trees and listening to the singing nightingales that were conjured up by the sad tale.

Late into the night, a shadow blacker than natural night was seen moving at the top of the dell. No one cried out. It seemed almost as if they were struck dumb. It, or they, approached, and Merry and Pippin fell to the ground, cowering in fear. Sam cried out, noticing to his horror that Frodo had disappeared. At the same time, one of the shapes leaped forward and stabbed at thin air with a drawn knife. It wailed in pain, dropping the blade.

Aragorn and Míril grabbed torches and rushed the Nazgûl. They swung at them and fought them off. Míril stabbed at one with her torch, trying to catch it's cloak on fire. The Nazgûl drew a short knife and swung, catching Míril on the cheek. The force of the blow knocked her over, and blood poured from her open cheek wound. She fell into a daze and missed the rest of the fight, struggling to remain conscious from blood loss and shock. Had she remained attentive, she would have realized that the Nazgûl had been aiming for her throat. Unlike how they approached the others, he had been trying to kill her.

Aragorn managed to force the other Nazgûl to flee with relative ease. This worried him, for he wondered why they gave up so easily. He ha little time to dwell on it though, for Sam shouted again and Aragorn turned to find Frodo on the ground, clutching his left shoulder in pain. Aragorn ran to him and quickly undid his shirt to look at the wound. As he did so, he noticed the blade of a knife sitting next to Frodo. Aragorn picked it up, and as he did so the knife blade dissolved in mid air, leaving only the hilt.

Aragorn winced and tucked it inside one of his bags, wrapped in cloth. Then he began to inspect Frodo's wound more closely.

"Míril, we need athelas."

No answer.

"Míril?!"

Everyone glanced around, trying to locate the missing ranger. Merry and Pippin immediately began searching the ground for her. Aragorn wanted to help, but Frodo was his top priority, no matter how much he cared for his best friend's adopted daughter. But as he waited for news from the two hobbits, he couldn't help thinking about the day her brother had been killed.

_"Come on! This way," Halbarad whispered, crouching forward._

_Aragorn and Eldir followed closely. They had their bows drawn, arrows fitted on the string. A large stag was ahead, and it would feed the whole ranger camp if they killed it._

_Halbarad signalled for them to stop when they reached the edge of a clearing. The stag was there, along with some does. Halbarad pulled back his bow._

_Suddenly a crash reverberated through the forest. The deer fled in terror as two huge wargs jumped into the clearing. One had an orc rider. The three evil creatures turned on the three hunters and attacked with incredible ferocity._

_The brute of the attack seemed to be on Eldir. Aragorn and Halbarad managed to kill the warg but before they realized what was happening, The orc rider had pinned Eldir down._

_"This is what happens to a descendant of the Spirit of Fire. The Great Eye destroys its enemies!"_

_Even as Aragorn swung his sword into the creature, and Halbarad shot the orc, the warg's jaws clamped down on Eldir's chest and a great ripping noise was heard. Eldir's scream quickly died out, a gurgling sound replacing it as blood clogged his throat, before swiftly sinking into ominous silence. Halbarad shouted in horror and rage, firing an arrow straight into the orc's face. It knocked the creature down and killed it. Aragorn and Halbarad made short work of the warg, but not before the beast managed to claw Eldir's face._

_Aragorn would never forget that moment. He remembered the orc's words as if they'd been spoken yesterday. Both he and Halbarad knew why Eldir had been killed- the orc's words confirmed it. But they'd never told Míril._

_"Míril can't know, Aragorn. She's too young," Halbarad insisted. It was the day after the attack, and the two men were still recovering in the tent._

_"It's up to you, my friend. But remember, the Dark Lord knows she's alive. We need to be careful."_

_"Perhaps Lord Elrond would keep her in Rivendell for a few years. Maybe throw Him off her scent?"_

_"Good idea. I'll send a letter-"_

_"Aragorn," a voice called from outside. The speaker soon appeared, drawing back the tent flap. It was a young woman. "The sons of Elrond are here. They wish to see you."_

_"Send them in."_

_Almost immediately, two men appeared from behind her and entered the tent. They had long, dark hair and grey eyes, and seemed almost identical._

_"Aragorn! What happened to you?"_

_"And you, Halbarad!"_

_"Peace, brothers. We're both fine," Aragorn reassured them. "We were attacked by servants of the Enemy while hunting."_

_"Was anyone else injured?" Elladan asked them, the two brothers sitting down on the floor with the rangers._

_Halbarad hung his head, forcing Aragorn to reply._

_"Eldir was killed. I'm fact, I'm glad your here. We have a message for you to deliver to your father."_


	4. In Need of Healing

A/N: Starting next chapter, expect updates at least every Sunday, sooner when I can. With school starting, and three other fics in the works, this has to be about once a week.

* * *

When Merry and Pippin found her, Míril was lying on the ground. The hobbits cringed as the torch light illuminated her face and they found that half of it was red with blood.

"Strider! Strider we found her!" Merry called out.

Aragorn nodded, finishing his initial inspection of Frodo's wound. He stood up and quickly made his way to where the two other hobbits stood.

"Míril, it's Aragorn. Can you hear me?"

After a few moments, her eyes flickered open. "What..."

"Come on. Let's get you by the fire," Aragorn helped her stand and together they made it to the campfire. He sat her down, back to the wall.

"Sam, come here," he beckoned to the hobbit. Aragorn took him aside.

"Frodo was stabbed with a morgul blade. It slowly turns the victim into a shade, similar to the Nazgûl. I need a special plant to help him."

"Will it cure Mr Frodo?"

"No. But it might be able to keep him with us at least until we can reach Rivendell. The problem is that athelas grows only in certain places. Watch over Frodo and Míril, and the others. I'll come back as soon as possible."

Aragorn disappeared into the night, leaving Sam, Merry, and Pippin alone with two injured companions. Míril at least was conscious, obviously a bit out of sorts still but beginning to come 'round. Frodo was unconscious, twisting and turning in pain.

"Aragorn," she mumbled, trying to find her friend.

"He's not here right now," Pippin told her, coming over.

"Course not," she groaned, "Never is."

"Are you alright?" Merry asked her.

She grunted but pulled herself up into a sitting position. Míril assured them she was fine.

"Anyone else injured?"

"Mr Frodo," Sam replied.

Míril suddenly was wide awake. Her eyes darted around until they landed on the ring-bearer.

"How?"

"Strider said something about a morgul blade."

"Eru help us all," she whispered. Louder, she said, "No wonder Aragorn isn't here. Is he out gathering athelas?"

Sam nodded and Míril took the time to look herself over. She felt around the bandage to her cheek, trying to recall what had happened. Why did the Nazgûl go for her face? The others hadn't even been assaulted, until Aragorn attacked the black riders. Why had she?

Míril quickly took up guard and let the hobbits sleep. Though injured, her elven blood gave her more endurance, so she was perfectly fine with this. She noted that Sam did not sleep more than a few hours, and that was only after Míril threatened to send him back home. Frodo was lucky to have such devoted friends.

When Aragorn returned he found Míril kneeling by Frodo, a wet cloth in hand, wiping his wound.

"Míril! I'm glad you're up," he smiled.

She nodded in thanks, moving away from Frodo to allow Aragorn to work.

Míril went to sit by Merry and Pippin. The two hobbits were still sleeping. She thought about how much bloodshed she had seen in her life and frowned. She didn't want these hobbits to suffer like many of the Dunedain had. Peregrine Took wasn't even an adult yet! He was still in his tweens! Merriadoc was barely of age. At least Frodo was fifty, and Sam... Well Sam was devoted to his master.

Aragorn finished with Frodo's wound and wrapped it. Sam had woken up and was listening as Aragorn explained what he had done. The sun was peeping over the horizon and the older ranger motioned for Míril to wake the other hobbits.

They had a quick breakfast before packing up their gear. Frodo was too weak to walk so they unloaded Bill the pony and let the hobbit ride him. Míril and Sam took a good deal of the extra baggage and the rest was distributed to the others.

"Let's be off," Aragorn insisted.

The uninjured hobbits asked him where they were headed.

Míril glanced at Aragorn. He nodded.

"Rivendell," she smiled.

This caused much excitement among the little people. Apparently Sam had a sort of fascination with elves. He'd always wanted to see them.

"Never met an elf?" she asked, confused.

Sam shook his head, "Well, miss, I did meet that Gildor fellow and his company. But I meant elves that live in grand halls and cities, you see."

Míril smiled happily, "Elvish cities are a wonder to behold. There are few left in the world, at least of ones that are as grand as Rivendell. There's Thranduil's Halls in Mirkwood, and Caras Galadhon in Lothlorien. Oh, and perhaps one could count the Grey Havens far to the west."

"Where'd they all go?" Pippin pressed, confused.

Aragorn answered this time. "Most were lost beneath the Seas a long time ago. Many years before Rivendell or Mirkwood or Lothlorien were founded. Others became ruins from assaults."

This silenced them for a long while. The hobbits mulled over this melancholy news, trying to understand it. How could cities be sunk under the seas? It made very little sense.

It was a long day. They walked quite far, crossing the South Road and heading into the thickets. They camped there that night.

The next few days passed without any problems. Frodo's wound was healing well, but the hobbit continued to regress.

It was exactly a week later when they came to a halt. Frodo's wound had healed over but the hobbit was slowly getting worse. He seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. They had reached the South Road by mid morning.

Aragorn decided it was only safe for one of them to scout the bridge. He insisted on doing it himself.

"Man cerig," she asked him desperately.

"Boe i 'waen,"

"Aragorn, no dirweg!" Míril nodded with caution.

"N'i lû tôl."

"Gwestol?"

He nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Watch over the hobbits."

With that he slunk off into the undergrowth, all but instantly disappearing into the green thickets.

"What was that about?" Pippin asked her quietly.

"Man cerig- that means 'must you'.  
"Boe i 'waen is 'it is necessary', to which I told him to be careful. He told me 'Until then', to which I asked him to promise me that."

The hobbits nodded, not fully understanding but comprehending enough to carry on.

Aragorn looked from behind his tree out at the bridge. It seemed calm enough. His heart raced, but he knew he had to try. Leaving his hiding spot, Aragorn crept out onto the bridge. Suddenly the glinting of a jewel caught his eye.

Bending down, Aragorn picked up what he realized to be an elf-stone. It was a beautiful beryl, perfectly carved and polished. Suddenly his mind raced as he remembered another elf-stone.

_"Please. Keep her safe, Ada."_

_Aragorn and Halbarad stood on Elrond's balcony, the elf pacing back and forth. His twin sons sat on a bench, watching._

_"You do realize who she is?"_

_The two rangers nodded. They knew only too well why Elrond held reservations about having her in Imladris._

_"My lord, she is but a child. And we told you what the orcs did to her brother," Halbarad insisted._

_"Father," Elrohir added, "She is almost like kin to us. You have told us of Nelyafinwë and Kanafinwë, and how they fostered you."_

_"This is true," Elrond nodded, "But I was no friend of their brothers. They were dangerous."_

_"Please, my Lord. At least allow her to stay for some while, until we can track down whatever enemies have been sent to destroy her."_

_Elrond looked out, down into courtyard below. He saw Lindir there, and Oreleth, talking with a young girl. Her brown hair was straight, reaching her lower back. It complemented her greyish blue eyes._

_"She is innocent of the deeds of her forefathers," Elladan said softly._

_Elrond exhaled and turned to face the two Dunedain rangers, "Very well. She may stay."_

_They smiled and all five went down to the courtyard below to meet with her. When they came out onto the grounds, Míril ran up to them with a huge smile._

_"Look what Lindir gave me!"_

_She showed them a beautiful aquamarine beryl that was suspended from a necklace. Halbarad knelt down in front of her._

_"That's beautiful, Míril. You thanked him?"_

_"Of course I did!"_

_"Listen, sweetie, we need to talk about something."_

Aragorn shook himself from the memory of those years long since past. He pocketed the beryl from the bridge and, glancing around to be sure it was safe, quickly made his way back to where Míril and the hobbits were hiding.

"Halt!"

"Peace, friend," Aragorn replied.

Míril lowered her sword and stood aside.

"What news of the bridge? Is it safe?" she asked concernedly.

Aragorn drew out the beryl, "I found this lying on the bridge. I think I will take it as a sign that it is safe to pass. But we should hurry."

They quickly set off towards the bridge. They were all uneasy while traveling along the main road. It felt too exposed, too vulnerable, too predictable. Nevertheless, there was no other way across, unless one traveled way up north into the Ettenmoors.

The Ettenmoors were even more dangerous than the Trollshaws. Despite its name, the Trollshaws didn't have nearly as many trolls as the Ettenmoors. Rumors of orcs and trolls in that northern area was widespread.

They reached the bridge without any trouble. Now came the crossing. Bill's horseshoes made what seemed to everyone else incredibly loud foot falls across the stone bridge. They hurried as fast as they could, eager to reach the cover of the trees.

Míril heaved a sigh of relief as they set foot on the other side. The river Mitheithel, also known as the Hoarwell, was behind them now. Turning north, the company made for the hills of the Trollshaws.

"Aragorn," Míril whispered, jogging up to be even with him, "shall I press on ahead and scout out the path? Frodo will need a rest soon."

"No. We stick together," he insisted, "But when we do stop, I need you to find us some food."

She nodded and dropped back to take up the rear. Pippin was panting as he climbed up and up. Merry needed some water. Sam was silent, leading the pony carefully along, trying not to bump Frodo.

"These towers," Merry murmured, "they make me nervous."

They all looked where he was pointing. Great ruined towers loomed up from the rock, their walls crumbling into oblivion. Míril nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Those are ruins from a time when our kin," Aragorn motioned to Míril and himself, "ruled these lands. However an evil power came down out of Angmar, and destroyed these defenses."

The hobbits looked in wonder upon the ruins. They found it difficult to imagine these old and crumbling towers once being home to men like Strider.

They stopped at the top of a hill that night in a circle of trees. Aragorn permitted them to make a small fire. Sending Míril out to get food, he set to looking after Frodo.

Míril's bow was out and she had an arrow notched on the string. Ahead of her in a small clearing was a stag, large and beautiful. Beside him where three does, two with fawns. She would not shoot the only male, nor would she shoot fawns or their mothers. Therefore she aimed her shot at the final doe, carefully pulling back her arm and then letting the arrow fly.

It struck the beast right in the neck, causing it to stumble. Quickly she notched a second arrow and sent it flying, this time killing the animal. The other deer fled, running off into the trees. She sent a quick prayer to Oromë in thanksgiving for the successful hunt.

Míril grabbed hold of the doe and slowly heaved it up. She went as quick as she could back to camp, which wasn't far, panting the entire time.

"Here," she grunted, dropping the carcass down. Aragorn chuckled at her frustrated, exhausted look.

"Heavy?"

She narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. She and Aragorn got to work skinning it and cooking the meat. After the meal, Míril fell asleep quickly as Aragorn took watch.

The next four days were filled with solid climbing. The weather had turned miserably cold and wet, making it even more difficult going. Frodo was shivering and miserable. Míril and Aragorn had given up trying to keep the hobbits' spirits high. They'd had to climb up a ridge when the valley they had entered turned into a cliff face. Poor Frodo was forced off the pony, and supported by Sam, climbed on foot.

Then finally the rain stopped. The sun was out and the ground was more flat. As they continued along their way, the company began to notice that they were following a path. Merry and Pippin were farther ahead now, eager to find where it led to.

Suddenly Míril, Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam heard two screams and then the panting of feet against the ground. Merry and Pippin all but crashed into them, shouts of 'trolls!' coming from their mouths.

"Trolls?" Sam squeaked.

Aragorn and Míril looked at each other in surprise. They snuck forward, hiding behind a rock. But Aragorn laughed quickly and walked straight up to the trolls and whacked one with a stick, "Get up, old stone!"

Nothing happened. The first to realize their mistake was Míril, who started chuckling. Then too Pippin realized what had happened.

"They're stone!"

"Well! We are forgetting our family history! These must be the very three that were caught by Gandalf, quarrelling over the right way to cook thirteen dwarves and one hobbit," Frodo smiled softly.

Everyone turned to him in surprise. He had spoken!

"Are you alright, Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

He nodded, "I'm feeling better here than I have so far. Let's stay awhile."

Aragorn agreed, "You're not only forgetting your family history, but all you ever knew about trolls!"

They ate some of the meager amount of bread and cheese that they had left underneath the shade of the big stone legs. Merry and Pippin wanted a song.

"How about you, Frodo!"

"Oh no. I'm not well enough to sing. But perhaps Sam would give you a go."

Sam blushed but finally agreed.

"Troll sat alone on his seat of stone  
& munched and mumbled bare old bone  
For many a year he had gnawed it near  
For meat was hard to come by..."

And so he sang for a while. It was a merry tune, and lifted their spirits. Everyone gave Sam a round of applause when it was finished.

"How about you, Míril. Why not grave us with one of your tales," Aragorn smirked. He was sharpening his dagger on a rock.

She nodded, "Give me a moment to think.

"Here is the Tale of the Nightingale:

"When the winds were cold and the grasses green,

"And the stars against the blue sky gleamed,

"Noise was gone and no song was heard  
For as of then, none had seen a bird.

"The elves could talk and laugh and cry,  
But they could not sing to the beautiful sky.

"Then one evening there came a call,  
A song that lifted up them all.

"As in the night and from the forests pale,  
Came the song of the Nightingale.

"Oh Nightingale, Oh Nightingale,  
Your music is like a silver thread.

"Oh Nightingale, Oh Nightingale,  
We thank for the song you spread.

"That is the short version. It has been so long since I heard it in full, I'm afraid I cannot recall every verse."

"I like it," Merry nodded.

She thanked them as they all complemented her. The company decided it was time to get moving again. Frodo seemed more keenly aware, though why was a mystery. They headed towards the road.

Another few hours of walking ensued before they decided to look for a spot to camp for the night. All of a sudden they heard the noise they had all been dreading: horse hooves.

Aragorn pushed them all down to the ground. Soon the hoofbeats got louder and louder and were now accompanied by the tinkling of bells. Then it stopped all of a sudden.

The hobbits heard as something was shouted. They could not understand what was said, for it was foreign to them. Sam could tell in his heart it was Elvish merely by the sound of the man's voice.

Aragorn and Míril both seemed to smile. They leapt up and Aragorn ran to the stranger. Tall and fair he was, with golden hair that flowed in the slight breeze. His horse was white as snow, and it seemed to them that he had an aura of serenity about him.

"Na vedui, Dùnedan!"

"Mae govannen, Glorfindel!"

Míril, after helping the hobbits up and now down the hill, bowed to the elf. He had dismounted and now spoke quickly with Aragorn.

"This," Aragorn told the hobbits, "is Glorfindel of Rivendell."

Glorfindel bowed slightly to the hobbits.

"It is fortunate I found you here," he chimed, "for we have been looking long!"

"Before we go, you must take a look at Frodo. He is injured," Aragorn insisted.

Glorfindel nodded and placed a hand on Frodo's chest. His face hardened in pain and concern as he felt around.

"He must be brought to Lord Elrond at once. All the more reason for us to make haste, Aragorn!"

They agreed upon this and began what turned into a multi day march. It was arduous and taxing, and by the end even Aragorn was feeling tired. They marched the rest of that day, and the next.

It was the third day with Glorfindel when the company found themselves stumbling along the road. Pines were on all sides and the going was tough. Frodo was told to ride Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth. As they exited the trees, Glorfindel hushed them.

"RUN!"

They took off as fast as they could. Soon they heard hoofbeats behind them, and out of the trees rode five black riders. Glorfindel shouted again, this time to his horse.

"Noro lim! Noro lim, Asfaloth!"

The horse took off as fast as he could. The company watched in dismay as ahead of them, out of the trees, four more riders appeared. They thought for a long while that Frodo wouldn't make it to the Forde.

But that fear proved to be unfounded. The elf's horse pushed in front of the black riders and pulled across the Ford of Bruinen. As the Nazgûl halted their steeds at the water's edge, Míril, Aragorn, and Glorfindel drew their swords. They rushed forward as Frodo fell from the saddle.

The Ringwraiths moved into the river, slowly at first but then quicker as nothing happened. Then all of a sudden a roar was heard as the waters rose and turned into a raging flood. Míril fancied she saw white horses with white riders at the head of the torrent. The black riders were washed away, pushed into the roaring force of the waves and pulled downstream.

The company panicked at first, fearing Frodo had been washed away with the riders. But that fear was satisfied as low and behold, from out of the trees on the other side there came six elves. They rushed to Frodo and picked him up and bore him deeper into the woods, while one led Asfaloth behind them.

Glorfindel smiled at the panting hobbits, "Fear not. For we have done all we can for your friend. It is up to the Lord Elrond to save him, if that is possible. My kinsmen shall take Frodo to him. Let us breathe for a moment before following them."

Pippin fell to the ground, exhausted. Merry sat down beside him and Sam stated after the quickly fading elves. Aragorn and Míril chatted with Glorfindel. After several minutes, Aragorn roused the hobbits and they set off.

"How far is Rivendell," Pippin asked Glorfindel curiously.

"Not too far," he smiled down at him, "not too far at all."

"Good," Merry huffed.

Míril led the way in front, eager to see her old home. She had been away so long, her feet yearned to walk again among the beautiful halls of the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond. Aragorn was in the rear, laughing to himself as he watched the spring in his friend's step. He remembered how keen she had been as a child when they first brought her here, barely a month after her brother's death.

All of a sudden, at the top of a hill, Míril stopped. The hobbits went to see why and suddenly before them they saw a sharp drop. At the bottom was a river that was fed by multiple waters falls. Beautiful houses lined the small hills on the other side.

"Welcome," Aragorn smiled, "to Rivendell, the Last Homely House west of the mountains."


	5. Flashbacks

_A/N: Got in a chapter early because no homework on the first day for the long weekend! Also, I'd forgotten how much fun writing LotR fanfiction was since I've been recently only doing Marvel. Dear oh dear, I love Tolkien so much..._

_Spot the Silmarillion references, make guesses as to who her infamous forefather and famous foremother are. Or cheat and go to my profile..._

* * *

Miril immediately left Aragorn and the group of hobbits to find her friends in Rivendell: Lindir, Oreleth, and of course the brothers, the sons of Elrond. Her first try was in the banquet hall.

It was a large hall, larger than any building west of the Mountains except maybe the Great Smials of Tuckborough. At one end was a massive fire, always tended to by an elf or two. It tended to be a job for one of the teenage rascals that has gotten into too much trouble. Other than the fire, the room was less than well lit, but the darkness added to the ambiance of the room. The only people in there was a woman with several young elflings. She was telling them a story and she looked up when Miril came into the firelight.

"Miril!"

"Oreleth!"

The elf smiled and stood up, walking over to give Miril a hug. Oreleth was Lindir's sister, and the two siblings had taken quite a fancy to Miril when the girl had first come to Rivendell. Oreleth thought back to those days.

_"Oreleth!"_

_"Settle down, Mir. I'm coming!"_

_"You promised to teach me the flute today!"_

_Oreleth laughed, showing Miril that she was gripping two flutes. Miril grinned widely, excited that her "aunt"(as she called Oreleth) was going to teach her to play today. Both Oreleth and Lindir were great musicians, though Oreleth spent her time teaching young elves while Lindir preferred the company of his peers._

"How are you doing, young lady," Oreleth asked before in concern, looking at Miril more closely, "What happened to your cheek?"

"We were attacked," Miril said, her hand traveling up subconsciously to her cheek, "Nothing serious. One of my comrades, however, requires Elrond's assistance."

"How tragic," Oreleth nodded.

"What are you teaching?"

Oreleth gestured to the children, "History. We're covering the Sinking of Numenor today."

"Any idea where Lindir is," Miril asked her.

"My brother was running an errand for Lord Elrond at the Stables," Oreleth nodded, "He will be delighted to see you."

"I'm sure," she grinned, "I'll talk to you later, Oreleth."

"Farewell, Miril!"

Miril turned to leave the hall and walked with a brisk pace out the doors. She stopped in the courtyard to look at the beautiful roses growing there, delighted to be once again back in Rivendell. Truly this place was beautiful.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Miril strolled peacefully through the gardens and over the bridge towards the stables. She wondered how her old foal was, now that he had grown into a full-fledged stallion. She hadn't seen him in nearly eight years. Daeroch was his name, Shadow Horse. He was a beautiful grey dapple stallion whose coat glistened in the moonlight.

As Miril approached the stables she heard two elven men talking.

"Belegur, I have not seen you in some time!"

"Aye, Lindir, you don't come by the stables much anymore."

"I cannot bear to see Daeroch here without Miril," the first said sadly.

"Lindir," Miril interrupted, "I'm here!"

"Miril!"

Lindir grinned and embraced Miril. Then, in concern, his hand went to her cheek.

"What is this?"

"Just a cut from the wilds," she brushed it off.

Lindir looked at her disapprovingly, "Both your father and I did not wish this life upon you. Those twins of Elrond were a bad influence on you growing up!"

"Oh please," Miril laughed, "I would've become a Ranger without their help! Even if I'd had to join a different company."

Nonetheless, Lindir and Miril both thought back to the days that she lived in Rivendell.

_"Elrohir! Elrohir!"_

_"What is it, little one," Elrohir asked Miril._

_"Lindir says I cannot become a ranger," Miril cried, close to tears._

_Elrohir looked at the twelve year old child, "Do not listen to Lindir. I believe you can become a formidable warrior, just you wait."_

_"Will you and Elladan show me how to use a sword?"_

_"But of course," Elrohir nodded swiftly, "Who else should instruct a daughter of the Dunedain, friend of our brother Aragorn, but us?!"_

_Miril brightened up instantly, "Where is Elladan?"_

_"My brother is with our father. Come, We will go see them."_

_Miril nodded and followed closely beside Elrohir. They trekked through the houses of Rivendell until they reached the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond. Crossing the small bridge that led to it, they were greeted by several younger elves as they walked through the doors. Elrohir stopped as if trying to remember where his brother and father were._

_"This way."_

_Miril bounced up and down behind him, excited to go see Lord Elrond as well as Elladan. Elrond did not see her much. For some reason she got the impression he disliked her somewhat, though why that was she did not know. Nonetheless, because of this she tried her hardest to impress the elf lord whenever she was in his presence. Walking into a studio of some sort, Elladan and Elrond turned to see who was entering._

_"Ah, Elrohir," Elrond nodded, "What can I do for you, son?"_

_"Miril just wanted to ask Elladan something," Elrohir gestured behind him to the little girl peeking out behind him._

_Elrond gave a small smile and nodded his permission._

_"Elladan," Miril asked slowly, "Will you teach me to use a sword like Elrohir will?"_

_Elrond, looking up at his younger twin in surprise, looked then from Elladan to the girl, and finally back to Elrohir. Elrohir shifted under his father's scrutiny._

_"Of course, Miril," Elladan nodded without hesitation, causing Elrond to look at HIM in surprise._

_"I am not sure Halbarad or Aragorn would approve…"_

_"Our brother did not say no to her becoming a ranger," Elrohir protest, "Besides, it is imperative she learn to defend herself, is it not?"_

_"Miril," Elrond looked at the girl sternly, "will you leave us for a moment?"_

"You should never have become a ranger," Lindir protested quickly, "You should have remained here, in Rivendell, learning more of your history as a half-elf."

"Half-elf doesn't suit me," Miril shook her head, "Part-elf, more like. I can't have more than a smidge of elvish blood in me. But then, I suppose we don't know, do we?"

"Miril!"

Both Miril and Lindir turned to see who was calling.

"Elrohir," Miril bowed happily, running over to see him.

"It is good to see you, little one," he grinned happily using the nickname he always had for her, "It is what, ten years since you were last here?"

"Around that," Miril laughed, "Close enough."

"Well you know how the years flow for us," Elrohir shrugged, "Time is a river ever-flowing."

"I presume you've seen Aragorn," Miril asked.

"Aye," he nodded, "I was with him until just now. Lord Elrond has finished with the Halfling and my brother and he wish to see you and Aragorn. I was sent to retrieve you."

"Duty calls, Lindir," Miril shrugged, "Will I see you later."

"Of course," Lindir nodded before bowing, "Miril, Lord Elrohir."

"Lindir," Elrohir nodded back with a smile before he and Miril took off for the Last Homely House.

Elrohir thought back to what happened after that request to train her. He and his brother had had a heated discussion with their father about little Miril.

_"We cannot train her."_

_"But Ada! She is being hunted by the Dark Lord! She must know when she is older how to defend herself," Elrohir pointed out quickly._

_"You only do not wish to train her because of her fore-fathers," Elladan accused his father._

_"You boys have become too attached to the cursed girl," Elrond shook his head, "How do you not protest to her being here when you KNOW of her parentage! Perhaps her mother and father were not to blame, nor their parents, nor the parents before that, but she has the blood of the Spirit of Fire. The blood of Feanor."_

_"Lady Galadriel is under the ban as well," Elladan pointed out, "Is she not?"_

_"She is not a Feanorian," Elrond spat angrily, "She did not take the oath."_

_"Is that what you are afraid of," Elrohir shouted, "That she will pursue the oath once she is made aware of her parentage?"_

_Elrond froze, "That is one thing you must never EVER reveal to her. Go. You may train the girl, but if you ever reveal her true lineage to her…"_

_"Fine."_

"-rohir? Elrohir," Miril was saying in concern.

"What?"

"I asked you a question but you were all, like, waking dream thing," Miril tried to explain.

Elrohir smiled, "What was it?"

"How is Frodo," she asked him.

"You must ask my father this," Elrohir shrugged, "I believe he is well, but I am not sure."

At last they arrived at the Last Homely House.


	6. Mithrandir!

A/N: I get your reservations about Elrond's reaction to Miril. Don't worry, it was more just an initial reaction, and as she grew older within Rivendell, he grew to see her as a friend instead of a potential enemy.

* * *

"Miril," Elladan shouted happily as she walked in, "Now not only is our brother here but also our little one!"

"Really, guys, I'm not that little any more. I'm 39!"

"Short indeed are the years of men," Elrond said cryptically, walking into the room followed by a man in grey and Aragorn.

"Mithrandir," Miril cried happily.

"Hello Miril," he smiled, but soon his face was replaced with a worn expression.

"How is Frodo," Miril asked quickly of Elrond.

Elrond sighed, "I believe he will recover, but we must wait and see. He is asleep now, surrounded by the other hobbits."

"Bilbo is with him too," Glorfindel added as he, too, entered the greeting room.

Aragorn looked at Miril in disappointment, "You've still not had your wound checked yet have you?"

"No," Miril admitted, "But Gandalf, where were you!"

"All will be made clear in due time," he brushed off the question.

Miril sighed but nodded. Turning to Elrond she bowed.

"My lord."

"It is good to see you, Miril," Elrond smiled slightly.

Over the years that Miril had stayed with Elrond, the girl had left quite an impression. Soon enough, Elrond had grown out of the mistrust and dislike and come to see that Miril was not the kinslayer of her forefathers. In fact, she reminded him of Celebrimbor in that respect. Soon, Elrond had realized that his dislike of Miril had stemmed merely from the part that her fore-father had played in his grand-father (Dior)'s death. Besides, it was hard to dislike a child.

Miril smiled and nodded, "You wished to see us?"

"Ah yes," he nodded, "I am calling together a council that will meet once Frodo is healed. I would like the two of you, Aragorn, Miril, to remain here until that council meets. For you must relay to it what befell the halflings these past few weeks."

Miril agreed quickly, and Aragorn not long after. Of course they would remain.

"Who are you calling," Aragorn asked him.

Elrond sighed, "I am not sure. I do not know of any who could arrive here quickly. I hope that Manwe willing, by some miracle, the delegates will chose themselves."

As they were speaking, a young elf probably in his teenage years walked up to them and bowed, "Pardon, Lord Elrond, but there are some elves of Mirkwood here to see you."

Everyone looked at the porter in surprise. Elves of Mirkwood? What could they be here for?

"Send them in," Elrond nodded.

Soon a small collection of Silvan elves made their way into the room. Fortunately the area was large enough for everyone. Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir instantly recognized their leader as the young Prince of Mirkwood.

"My lords," Legolas bowed to those in the room, for he realized he was in the presence of several elven lords including Glorfindel and Elrond.

"Prince Legolas," Elrond nodded, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I have a message from my father," Legolas told them.

Elrond held up his hand, "I believe it is more than fate that has brought you here, Legolas Greenleaf. I think it best you keep the message to yourself until the council is held."

"Council?"

"I am convening a very important council in two weeks' time. There you shall share your news," Elrond told the elf, "Until then, stay and enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, Lord," Legolas bowed, still rather confused, "May I ask who these are?"

He looked at the two rangers.

"I shall tell you while I escort you to your guest house," Aragorn nodded, "Come, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas bowed to Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and Gandalf. He turned towards Aragorn and followed him out. Miril stayed where she was, unsure if she should accompany her friend or stay with the elves. In the end she decided to stay with the twins.

"Is there anything I can do," Miril asked Elrond and Gandalf.

Elrond considered this, "Actually yes, you should join in the search for the Nazgul."

Miril nodded, "Who else is searching?"

"We are," Elrohir smiled, "Come, let us go!"

Miril followed the half-elven twins out the door and back towards the stables.

"Belegur," Elladan ordered, "Prepare our horses."

"Yes, lord," the stable master nodded quickly and immediately he and the stable hands got to work on the two elf lord's steeds.

"I will prepare Daeroch on my own," Miril insisted as an elf came over.

"As you wish."

Soon the trio had mounted up and they set off down the road to the exit. Miril laughed gaily as the wind flowed through her chocolaty-brown hair. Daeroch whinnied in pleasure at being able to run fast across the ground. His hooves pounded the earth beneath him, reverberating across the land.

Elrohir smiled at her and shook his head. She was a wild girl: smart, but rash. She'd rush headlong into danger at a pin drop. She had a fiery temper, one which she struggled to control when she was truly angry. He'd only seen her like that twice. The first was the most memorable.

_"Keep your shoulders up, Mir," Elladan instructed the young teenage girl._

_Miril bit her tongue and raised her shoulders as she held the double short-swords up._

_"Better," Elrohir nodded._

_Elladan ran at her and she parried, blocking his attack easily. Little did she realize, though, that Elrohir was coming up behind her. He poked her in the back._

_"Ouch!"_

_Then it was Elladan's turn to piss her off._

_"OUCH!"_

_"Gotta keep your eyes open, Miril," Elrohir winked and laughed as he poked her again._

_She was steaming. Elrohir stopped smiling and stepped back as she gritted her teeth and raised her swords. Miril was only 14 but she was frightening when angry. Her cheeks got all red and her eyes narrow._

_Miril ran at Elrohir screaming, "I'll show you open eyes!"_

Elrohir shook his head at the memory and laughed. Elladan, who was next to him, asked him what was up.

"Remember that time we got Miril very angry when we were teaching her?"

"How could I forget," Elladan laughed.

They approached the river, and Elrohir and Elladan soon caught up with Miril. They dismounted and led their horses on foot down a small path beside the river.

"The current flows this way," Elrohir nodded as they approached the path. South.

Walking, they watched the path and the water for any signs of the Nazgul. After an hour of walking they came to a small pool that was fed by the river Bruinen. In the pool there were nine horse corpses. They were all black, with open red eyes. But they found only eight sets of clothes.

"There is a chill here," Elladan muttered, "An unnatural chill!"

"Aye," Elrohir nodded.

Miril agreed with them, "I say we get out of here."

"Yes," Elladan agreed with her, "Let us go."

They mounted their horses and swiftly road from the spot. There indeed had been an unnatural chill in the air, almost as if there had been another presence. Galloping from that cursed place, they arrived within the hour at the Last Homely House.


	7. Hall of Fire

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating. School hit, and I had to focus my efforts on one fic which was my main Marvel fanfic, the Changeling. But I recently felt very inspired to write Tolkien again, and so here we are. A nice long chapter for you! Also, Disclaimer, the Hymn to Elbereth is 100% Tolkien, as are some of the sentences used in dialogue between non-OC's in this chapter._

Four days went by and soon Frodo was healed. He woke up on the morning of October the 24th to a wise old wizard sitting in his room. They discussed many things and soon they came to the topic of Aragorn and Miril.

"Do you really mean that Strider is one of the people of the old Kings," said Frodo in wonder. "I thought they had all vanished long ago. I thought he was only a Ranger!"

"Only a Ranger!" cried Gandalf. "My dear Frodo, that is just what the Rangers are: the last remnant in the North of the great people, the Men of the West. They have helped me before; and I shall need their help in the days to come; for we have reached Rivendell, but the Ring is not yet at rest."

"What about Miril," Frodo asked, "What is she?"

A strange look came across Gandalf's face. He covered it up quickly and smiled.

"Miril is of elvish and dunedain descent. It is complicated."

"Very well," Frodo nodded, "Keep your secrets, Gandalf. I myself wish to rest for a while longer."

"There will be great feasting later today in honor of your recovery," Gandalf revealed to the hobbit, "So rest up."

Gandalf left the hobbit alone in his room and went to the great libraries of Rivendell. There he found Aragorn and Elrond deep in conversation.

"I am concerned for her, Lord," Aragorn was telling the Elf-Lord and Aragorn's adopted father.

"For Miril," Gandalf asked, butting in on their conversation.

"Yes," Aragorn nodded, making room for the wizard.

"She is a stout warrior, a girl of wonderful heart, and full of passion," Gandalf shook his head, "You need not be worried."

Elrond smirked, "So you always have said, Mithrandir. Even when we all doubted, you stood by Miril's side. Why is that?"

"Because only the foolish despair. Miril is as capable a warrior as her father, as gifted at lore as her mother, and as strong of heart as her companions."

"Where is she at the moment," Elrond asked.

"I last saw her with the twins," Gandalf revealed, "As usual."

Miril sat laughing hysterically at something Elladan had said. The twins and Miril were seated in one of the many gardens of Imladris, eating food and drinking wine.

"It wasn't funny," Elladan protested.

"Yes, it was, brother," Elrohir laughed along.

Elladan shook his head but chuckled as Miril struggled to regain control of herself. They hadn't heard her beautiful laugh in many years. Elrohir especially had missed it.

"How has the hunt come," Miril asked after several silent minutes in which the three of them merely enjoyed each other's company.

"Unfortunately there is rarely a shortage of orcs," Elladan told her.

Elrohir agreed, "We've stuck mostly to the areas of the Ettenmoors as of late, since our sister has been home. It has been long since we've seen her, so we wanted to stay close."

"How is the Lady Arwen," Miril asked.

"Wonderful," said a woman who approached them, "I am happy to have returned home after spending so long with my grandmother, though I do miss the golden leaves of Lorien."

"My Lady," Miril got up and bowed from her spot, "It is good to see you."

"Miril," she nodded with a small smile, "It is a pleasant surprise seeing you here after so many years."

"Sister," Elladan smiled, "You do realize that Lord Aragorn is here, don't you."

Elrohir snickered.

"Yes, I do," Arwen narrowed her eyes, "I was on my way to see him, brother."

"I am sure he cannot wait to lay eyes on you," Elrohir added as she walked away.

Arwen rolled her eyes at her brothers' teasing. She merely bid farewell to Miril and continued on her way to the library.

Miril jabbed Elrohir in the side, "That was mean."

"Was not! It was just a bit of fun!"

Miril rolled her eyes and laid back in the grass. She let the bright sun rest on her face, illuminating her pale, soft skin. It warmed her like a candle and she relished the wonderful feeling it brought her.

Elrohir watched the woman with a small smile. He felt warm inside while in her presence. It made him feel happier than any other time in his life, when Miril was by his side. He loved his brother, but it was something different with Miril, Elrohir simply couldn't place it.

Elladan watched his brother silently. Elladan knew what his brother was feeling, even if Elrohir himself did not. It made him laugh inside. Elladan reflected that he had two siblings that were hopelessly in love. For himself, he was fine with the wind in his hair and the sword in his hand. That was his life, and he liked it.

Frodo woke up later that day to Sam in his room. The two hobbits talked for a while before Sam revealed that the feast was soon. Fortunately Frodo had already changed and the two hobbits left the bedroom for the courtyard. There they ran into the other hobbits and Aragorn.

"Come, it is time for the feast," Aragorn smiled, letting the hobbits go before him into the great dining hall.

It was at the feast that Frodo first laid eyes on the Lady Arwen. So beautiful was she that Frodo marveled at her. Surely she was the most beautiful maiden alive!

Once everyone had processed in, they waited for Elrond to sit before the rest were allowed to do the same. Frodo found himself next to an old dwarf with a voluminous white beard.

"Welcome and well met," the dwarf said, "Gloin, at your service."

"Frodo Baggins at your service and your family's," Frodo bowed in surprise, "Am I right in assuming you are THE Gloin, one of Thorin Oakenshield's companions?"

"Quite right," Gloin answered, "And I have already been told that you are kinsman and adopted heir of Bilbo the renowned. Allow me to congratulate you on your recovery!"

"Thank you!"

Miril was conspicuously absent from the feast. However, everyone was so caught up in the celebration that no one missed her, except Elrond. Elrond wondered where the half-elf had gone to, but he did not pursue it. She was old enough to take care of herself. The only other people missing from the feast were Elladan and Elrohir, for Elrond had sent them on an errand that night and they were away from Rivendell. Goblins had been sighted leaving the Ettenmoors, and they needed to be kept in check.

As it was, Miril was wandering the empty halls of the Last Homely House. She was on her way to visiting her old room which she hoped they had kept like it had been eight years prior. Indeed, when she got there and opened the door, she breathed in the familiar scent of orchids that grew outside the window. Closing her eyes she took a big whiff of the comforting scent.

She went to the mirror and her hand went to her cheek. She felt the healing wound with her hand. It would leave a scar. But that was okay- one more battle scar to add to her dozen. Miril went to her desk and opened the bottom drawer. Drawing out the bottom of the drawer, she revealed a secret compartment which contained a dust-covered book. Miril removed the book and blew off the dust. She smiled sadly as the beautiful blue star on the black cover was revealed beneath the blanket of dust newly removed.

The book was an ancient one, one that told of days long since passed. Miril had found it in a troll hoard and had kept it hidden since. For within its covers were stories that told of the Elder Days, written by a master elf of the Noldor. Besides tales of the days before the Fall of Beleriand, it also contained herbal remedies, maps, and other coveted crafts from those days. She knew in her heart she should give it to the Lord Elrond, but somehow she felt a connection to it. Something unexplained refused to allow her to hand it over.

Miril looked up from the book when she heard a series of bells tolling in the distance. The feast was over, and it was time for story and song! Miril smiled and slipped the book back into the bottom drawer before pulling on a dress from her old closet. Miraculously, the beautiful dresses were still in prime shape despite the number of years that had passed since they had last been worn.

In her silver and blue dress, Miril did her hair back and slipped on some silver shoes. She rushed out the door of her room and made her way to the Hall of Fire. Once there, she waited to go in for everyone else first. She wished that Elladan and Elrohir were there, but wishing would do nothing. They would be back late tomorrow, anyways. They would miss the Council that was set to convene though.

For many people had shown up. Gloin and a company of dwarves had come as emissaries of Dain from the Lonely Mountain. Legolas Greenleaf and his Mirkwood elves had arrived some days prior to the feast. Elves of the Gray Havens lead by Galdor were there as well. Tomorrow, she and Aragorn would represent the race of Men. It was not the first time she had aligned herself with her Dunedain brethren, though she felt just as at home among the Elves.

"Miril," Gandalf greeted her, "Elrond told me you missed the feast. Why is that?"

"I was elsewhere," was all she told the wise old wizard.

Gandalf huffed, "Ever full of secrets."

"You know you like me that way," she smirked, "Have you seen Lindir?"

"Yes. He is with Bilbo in the corner."

"Thanks."

Miril made her way through the crowds to where Bilbo sat reciting some poem. It seems he was just finishing as Miril got there.

"Now, we better have it again," Lindir nodded to Bilbo.

"I am flattered, Lindir," he said, "But it would be too tiring to repeat it all."

"Not to tiring for you," another elf answered with a laught, "You know you are never tired of reciting your own verses. But really, we cannot answer you question at one hearing!"

"What," Bilbo cried, "You can't tell which parts were mine, and which were the Dunedan's?"

"It is not easy for us to tell the difference between two mortals," Lindir protested.

Bilbo told him this was nonsense.

"Maybe. To sheep, other sheep no doubt appear different. Or to shepherds. But mortals have not been our study. We have other business!"

"Very well, I will leave you to guess," Bilbo snorted.

Miril chuckled as Bilbo and Frodo left the little scene. She sat down beside Lindir on the floor.

"What was that about?"

"Oh you know, old Bilbo was telling us one of his pieces of poetry. Quite a good one, too. You'd have enjoyed it. It was about Earendil and his journey."

"Miril! Miril!"

The Ranger turned around to see who was calling her. It was Oreleth.

"Oreleth," Miril smiled, rising from her seat beside Lindir who himself took the stool to perform one of his own poems.

"Miril, come. It is time for us to perform the Hymn of Elbereth. Do you not wish to accompany me?"

"Of course," Miril grinned, hurrying behind the elf maid quickly. They arrived at the front of the Hall of Fire where a lute sat unplayed. Oreleth grabbed it and struck up a tune.

_"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,_

_silivren penna miriel,_

_o menel aglar elenath!_

_Na-chaered palan-diriel_

_O galadhremmin ennorath,_

_Fanuilos, le linnathon_

_Nef aear, si nef aearon!"_

Miril's clear voice rang out across the quieted room. Everyone listen to her sing the Hymn of Elbereth. It was a favorite among the Elves of Rivendell. It was a hymn of praise to Lady Elbereth, that is, Lady Varda, wife of Lord Manwe of the Valar. She is the Queen of the Stars, and the patron of the Elves for lack of a better word. All give her praise.

The rest of the night went like this, as Miril sang and enjoyed the songs of her elvish friends all around her. It was a long night, but elves need little sleep. However Miril retired early the next morning while the sky was still dark to her room, eager for a rest. Her cheek was stinging despite its progress healing, and she made sure to apply the ointment that Elrond had given her before bed. After all, tomorrow would be a long day. The Council was to convene.


	8. The Council (Part One)

_A/N: The majority of the dialogue in this section is directly from the book. There wasn't much for me to do with the Counsel, so I went straight to the source material._

* * *

The next day, Miril woke early feeling rather refreshed. She took a walk before the Council was called and just returned to the main garden when a clear bell tolled.

Miril walked quickly in to the Council chamber where she found Aragorn sitting in a corner by himself. Elves had already filled many of the seats; she saw Erestor, Glorfindel, Galdor, and Elrond of course. There were other elves with them both of the Gray Havens and of Rivendell. There was even the Prince of the Silvan Elves, Legolas. Gloin and a younger dwarf, probably his son, sat in on the Council as well.

Taking her seat next to Aragorn, her eyes fell on a man clothed as if for a long journey on horseback. Across his chest was a great horn tipped with silver. The man looked upon Frodo and Bilbo who entered the room with wonder.

"Who is that," Miril whispered to Aragorn.

Before he could answer, Elrond introduced him, "Here is Boromir, a man from the South. He arrived in the grey morning, and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered."

The first topic discussed concerned the dwarves. Gloin was here to report several things, including that of a failed expedition into Moria that Balin and some followers had undertaken. But then he spoke of an even graver matter.

"Then about a year ago a messenger came to Dain, but not from Moria- from Mordor: a horseman in the night who called Dain to his gate. The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. Rings he would give for it, such as he gave of old. And he asked urgently concerning hobbits, of which kind they were, and where they dwelt."

Everyone was surprised and many disturbed prompting Gloin to continue.

"And so I have been sent at last by Dain to warn Bilbo that he is sought by the Enemy, and to learn, if may be, why he desires this ring, this least of rings. Also we crave the advice of Elrond. For the Shadow grows and draws nearer. We discover that messengers have come also to King Brand in Dale and that he is afraid. We fear that he may yet yield. Already war is gathering on his eastern borders. If we make no answer, the Enemy may move Men of his rule to assail King Brand, and Dain also."

Elrond replied with assurance, "You have done well to come. You will hear today all that you need in order to understand the purposes of the Enemy. There is naught that you can do, other than resist, with hope or without it. But you do not stand alone. You will learn that your trouble is but part of the trouble of all the western world. The Ring! What shall we do with the Ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies? That is the doom that we must deem. That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world."

Miril looked around the room at the faces before her. They were all filled with anticipation, with questions, and some with foreboding. Legolas seemed twitchy, Gloin's son uncomfortable being surrounded by all the elves, and Boromir rather curious. Aragorn's face was grave, and she herself felt a chill roll down her back when she thought about the Ring.

Then Elrond began to speak about Sauron and the forging of the Rings of Power. Miril knew the tale well, as she had been taught it during her childhood in Rivendell. However there were some details that were wholly new to her, no doubt because of Elrond's firsthand experience. He spoke of how Sauron had preyed upon the elves' thirst for knowledge and together they had crafted the rings of power. Seven were created for the dwarf lords, nine for the lords of men, and three for the elven kings. Sauron did not touch the three, and these alone were hidden from him by Celebrimbor the elf-smith when he became aware of the Ruling Ring. For while the nineteen rings were being created in the open, Sauron was in secret creating a master ring, the One Ring, to rule over the others.

Then he spoke of Numenor, its glory and its fall. He spoke of the return of the great kings of Men to Middle-Earth out of the sea upon the winds of the storm. He told of Elendil, of Isildur and Anarion, and the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor. He spoke of the Last Alliance between Elves and Men where Gil-galad and Elendil banded together and defeated Sauron.

"I remember well the splendor of their banners," he said, "It recalled to me the glory fo the Elder Days and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains were assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken and the elves deemed that evil was ended forever, and it was not so."

Miril nearly laughed at Frodo's expression as he burst out, "You remember? But I thought, I thought that the fall of Gil-galad was a long age ago."

Elrond then explained to Frodo and to those unfamiliar with his lineage to the council, that he was an elf of the Elder Days. For he was the son of Earnedil and Elwing, who themselves were children of great elves and men of the Elder Days, tracing back not far to Luthien herself, daughter of Queen Melian the Maia.

Miril wondered very much who she herself was descended from. No doubt it was some nameless elf, but in her dreams she liked to pretend she was the product of some sort of famed elf and man. Little did she realize just how true this was. Though, infamous might have been a better word for the elf.

Elrond then went on to explain how Isildur had kept the One Ring as compensation and as a memorial for the death of his father Elendil.

"So that is what became of the Ring," Boromir cried, "If ever such a tale was told in the South, it has long been forgotten. I have heard of the Great Ring of him that we do not name, but we believed that it perished from the world in the ruin of his first realm. Isildur took it! That is tidings indeed."

"Alas, yes," Elrond nodded, "Isildur took it, as should not have been."

Miril nodded sadly, absentmindedly. It was a tale kept alive in the main houses of the Dunedain, ones closely linked with Aragorn. So far nothing she had heard so far was news.

"Fruitless did I call the victory of the Last Alliance? Not wholly so, yet it did not achieve its end. Sauron was diminished but not destroyed. His Ring was lost but not unmade. The Dark Tower was broke, but its foundations were not removed," Elrond supposed.

After Elrond had spoken of the ruin of Arnor in the North, he spoke then of Gondor in the South. He spoke of its waning, and to this Boromir protested.

"Give me leave, Master Elrond, to speak more of Gondor. Believe not that in the land of Gondor the blood of Numenor is spent, not all its pride and dignity forgotten. By our valor the wild folk of the East are still restraine and the terror of Morgul kept at bay."

Boromir went on to speak much of the valor of Gondor. But then he came to the real reason he was at Rivendell.

"I come to ask for counsel and the unravelling of hard words. For on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me. In that deam, I though thte eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying: "_Seek for the Sword that was broken: in Imladris it dwells; there shall be counsels taken Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token that doom is near at hand, for Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand._"

Miril and Aragorn exchanged a quick look of understanding. The sword that was broken. Both knew of this oft-spoken of blade.

"Here in the House of Elrond more shall be made clear to you," said Aragorn, standing up and casting his sword upon the table all saw it was in two pieces, "Here is the Sword that was broken!"

"And who are you, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith," Boromir asked quickly.

Miril nearly choked with laughter but a quick stare from Gandalf and Elrond shut her up.

"He is Aragorn son of Arathorn," said Elrond, "And he is descended form many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son of Minas Ithil. He is the Chief of the Dunedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk."

Frodo jumped up in surprise, "Then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!"

"It does not belong to either of us," Aragorn said, "but it has been ordained that you should hold it for a while."

"Bring out the Ring, Frodo."

All then understood the remainder of the riddle. Boromir fretted the Doom of Minas Tirith, but Aragorn corrected him.

"The words were not he doom of Minas Tirith."

It was explained in words what all realized in that moment, that the sword that lay broken on the table was indeed Narsil, the Sword of Elendil that broke beneath him when he fought Sauron.

Many things were discussed concerning Aragorn and Boromir, all of which greatly interested Miril. For she felt that each time Boromir looked in doubt upon Aragorn, her own heritage was being doubted. But she looked upon her chieftain and friend Aragorn with pride whenever he spoke.

Bilbo was then asked to continue the tale and he himself told the full story of how he received the ring. However this is written of elsewhere, and I will not go into it. In the end, however, it was enough to know that the ring passed from Gollum, to Bilbo, to Frodo. Frodo went on to tell his part of the tale up from when he received the ring to the very crossing of the fords not many days ago.

"It is quite a long tale," Frodo told them, "But the story does not seem complete to me. I still want to know a good deal, especially about Gandalf."

Galdor, who sat nearby, overheard this comment and reiterated it adding also, "What of Saruman? He is learned in the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel, if he knows the things that we have heard?"


	9. The Council (Part Two)

"The questions you ask, Galdor, are bound together," said Elrond, "I had not overlooked them, and they shall be answered. But these things it Is the part of Gandalf to make clear; and I call upon him last, for it is the place of honor, and in all this matter he has been the chief."

And so Gandalf went on to speak about Saruman, and the betrayal that he suffered at his fellow wizard's hands. He also spoke about Gollum.

"And I," said Aragorn, "counselled that we should hunt for Gollum, too late though it may seem. And since it seemed fit that Isildur's heir should labor to repair Isildur's fault, I went with Gandalf on the long and hopeless search. And in the end, we were joined by Miril, here."

For the first time that day, all eyes turned upon her.

"Don't look at me," she assured them, "It was mainly the work of Aragorn and Gandalf that brought about this leg of the journey."

And so attention switched once more to Aragorn and Gandalf as they told of the capture of Gollum and his interrogation in the halls of Mirkwood. They spoke of how they entrusted Gollum to the watchfulness of the Elves.

"Alas! Alas," cried Legolas, "The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Smeagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped!"

"Escaped," cried Aragorn, "That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the golk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?"

Legolas went on to explain how the elves would take Gollum to climb trees each day until one day he refused to come down. They set a watch upon the tree but were attacked by orcs, and by the time the battle was over, Gollum had disappeared.

"We have failed to recapture Gollum. We came on his taril among those of many orcs, and it plunged deep into the Forest, going south. But ere long it escaped our skill, and we dared not continue the hunt; for we were drawing night to Dol Guldur, and that is still a very evil place; we do not go that way."

"Well, well, he is gone," said Gandalf, "We have no time to seek for him again. He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen."

The rest of the Council was spent with Gandalf discussing how Saruman had imprisoned him and his escape by Gwaihir the Windlord. Everyone but Elrond was shocked at the tale. Saruman? Betrayed them? It was all much to take in.

"This is grievous news concerning Saruman," Elrond said, "for we trusted him and he is deep in all our counsels. It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the Enemy, for good or for ill. Of all the tales told today, the tale of Frodo was the most strange to me. I have known few hobbits, save Bilbo here, and it seems to me that he is perhaps not so alone and singular as I had thought him. The world has changed much since I was last on the westward roads."

Finally talked turned to what to do with the Ring.

"There are but two courses, as Glorfindel already has declared: to hide the Ring forever, or to unmake it. But both are beyond our power. Who will read this riddle for us?"

"We must send the Ring to the fire."

Everyone fell silent. Miril felt a tug as she looked as the ring. It called to her. It wanted her. She wanted it. But she shook her head, she could not have it. It was not hers. It was evil. She could not have it.

"What would happen to the three elven rings if the One were destroyed," Miril asked suddenly after long silence.

"We know not for certain," answered Elrond sadly, "Some ope that the three rings, which Suaron has never touched, would ten become free and their rulers might heal the hurts of the world that he has wrought. But maybe when the One is gone, the Three will fail, and many fair things will fade and be forgotten. That is my belief."

"Yet all the Elves are willing to endure this chance," said Glorfindel, "if by it the power of Sauron may be broken, and the fear of his dominion be taken away forever."

After a long silence, Miril noticed Frodo shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Finally, he stood.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," he said, "though I do not know the way."

Elrond nodded slowly, "If I understand aright all that I have heard, I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?"

Elrond sighed, "But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right; and though all the mighty elf-friends of old, Hador, and Hurin, and Turin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them."

Suddenly Sam leapt from the corner he'd been sitting in, "But surely you won't send him off alone, Master?!"

"No indeed," Elrond smiled, "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Miril laughed out loud at the sheepish look on Sam's face. At last the Council was dismissed. Miril left with Aragorn.

"Aragorn," she said, "Shouldn't someone go after Gollum?"

He shrugged, "It is unlikely that they would catch him."

"But someone should at least try!"

Aragorn shook his head, "Don't do anything hasty, Miril."

"I won't," she smiled, "Don't worry."

"I heard that the Twins will be back for dinner tonight," Aragorn commented.

"Oh, that's good!"

"Thought you might be happy."

"What's that supposed to mean," Miril asked him quickly.

Aragorn smirked, "Nothing."


	10. The Book

**_A/N: Chapter 10!_**

Miril was starving after the Council and she soon split from Aragorn's company. She went to the kitchens for a bite to eat and got a salad and some bread. Tired of sitting indoors, she took her meal with her out into the sunshine and ate in one of the many gardens of Imladris. There she ran into the Lady Arwen.

"How are you, my Lady," Miril asked the elf-maiden.

Arwen smiled, "Quite well, Miril, quite well. How was the Council?"

"Long," Miril admitted, "but engaging. I learned much."

The two women spoke at length about various matters. They weren't good friends by any stretch of the imagination; Miril had met Arwen only a few times in her travels, and then it was mostly in Lothlorien. But the two women were a minority when surrounded by so many men so they had to stick together.

Soon however, Miril said goodbye to Arwen and retreated to her bedroom to sleep. She was rather tired after the Council and wanted to take a nap. Climbing into bed, she had strange dreams. Her dream was filled with red. A red sky and a red ocean. A great ship was on the red sea, and a shining jewel was in the water. For some reason, Miril knew it was a choice. She could either choose the jewel, or choose the ship. Then a voice spoke:

"A red dawn that day will be, when at last you choose between Jewel and Sea."

She wondered what it meant.

When she awoke, Miril pulled on her shoes and slipped out the door. The moon was high in the sky, and she guessed it was around eleven o'clock. Heading to the Last Homely House in Imladris, Miril walked into the main room and asked a maiden whether or not the Sons of Elrond had returned.

"Yes," the woman nodded, "They are in council with Lord Elrond, Lord Aragorn, and Mithrandir. Down the hall to the left."

"Thanks!"

Miril walked down the hall and knocked on the wooden door before opening it. Inside there was a beautiful skylight, from which moonlight streamed down through onto the center of a large circular table. Candles adorned the rest of the room, causing light to dance all around. Gandalf, Aragorn, Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir sat around the table.

"Ah, Miril," Elrond nodded, "We sent Aragorn to fetch you, but you were asleep and he decided not to wake you."

Miril nodded, "Welcome back, guys."

Elladan and Elrohir smiled and nodded.

"So," Miril asked, "What are we talking about?"

"We were briefing them on the Council," Aragorn explained.

Miril took her seat with a nod and listened as Elrond told his sons about the council.

"So Saruman is a traitor," Elrohir snarled, "How repulsive."

"How long were his councils tainted, I wonder," said Elladan.

"Who can ever know," Gandalf replied.

"We are sending out scouts," Elrond told Miril, "Scouts to get in contact with the Rangers and the Elves."

"Who's going?"

"I'm sending the four of you," Elrond replied, gesturing towards Aragorn, Miril, Elladan, and Elrohir, "Get in touch with the Dunedain as you can, then Elladan, Elrohir, head east down Celebrant and into your grandparents' country."

"I should be able to get in contact with Halbarad's company, and maybe a few other scattered folk," Aragorn agreed, "We will search down the Greyflood all the way to Tharbad."

"Miril," Elrond turned to her, "Which would you like to go with?"

Miril thought about it. She weighed her options and decided in the end to go with Elladan and Elrohir.

"All of us will help finding the Rangers, first," Elladan assured her, "Until then, your choices are still open."

She nodded, this was true.

"Other messengers I will send up into the Ettenmoors and still more to Mirkwood along with Legloas' followers. Erestor shall lead a party to speak to Radagast at Rhosgobel."

Gandalf nodded, "It is a good plan. For we must have news of how the Enemy is amassing his forces in this area before we venture East."

"And we can search for Gollum," Miril added eagerly, for she had put much effort into finding that troublemaker the first time.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed, "Keep your eyes and ears open as you travel for news of him."

Miril nodded, "Good. Good."

"Well, you are dismissed until morning," Elrond nodded after a moment, "Prepare to leave right after you eat breakfast."

They nodded in turn and got up from the table. Miril wasn't tired so she walked slowly and carefully, so as not to disturb anyone who was sleeping, to the Library in the large house. She didn't notice Elrohir watching her longingly until he spoke.

"Something is troubling you Mir," he observed, coming forward form where he had been leaning against a pillar, "What is it?"

"Nothing," she assured him, "Well… I had this dream…"

"What was it about?"

"There was this ocean of red water, maybe blood," she explained, "and there was a beautiful ship sailing west. But there was also a brilliantly shining jewel along the shore. And I had to choose- the jewel or the ship."

"Which did you choose?"

"Neither. I woke up before I chose one or the other," Miril replied.

Elrohir nodded, "I am not gifted like my father or grandmother in deciphering riddles such as these. I am afraid I am unable to interpret this."

"That's alright," Miril smiled, "We can't all be good at everything."

Elrohir scoffed, "Perhaps you cannot. However, we elves…"

"Oh stop it," Miril laughed, hitting him in the arm.

Elrond watched them from a distance and frowned. His only daughter had fallen for a mortal, and now one of his sons was falling for a fellow half-elf who was doomed to live out her days in Middle Earth, never to leave over the sea.

Elrond knew that if Elrohir and Miril were to be married, have a family, then that would put Elrohir in a horrible situation: he would have to choose between his family, including his always present twin brother and the mother he so ardently fights for, or Miril Lôminzil. Sighing, he left them be.

"So what are you in here for," Elrohir asked Miril as she wandered around the room.

"I'm not really sure," she admitted, "I just felt drawn here. But I should get to bed, I suppose."

Elrohir smiled, think about Miril's fondness for books that she'd had since she had first come to Rivendell. Her favorite subject had always been the Feanorians and Fingolfinians.

_"Please, Elrohir! Please can we go see Lindir in the Library?!"_

_"I suppose," Elrohir laughed as young Miril pulled him towards the Last Homely House._

_Miril hopped along the path to the Last Homely House. She burst in through the doors, past the group of elder elves that stood speaking, and through the hall to the Library. Once there, she ran to an elf sitting in the corner at a desk._

_"Lindir!"_

_"Hello Miril," he smiled, looking up from his book, "What can I do for you."_

_"I want the book on the Elder Days, the one with the pretty colors!"_

_Lindir laughed, "The same one as always? Alright!"_

_He got up and went to a shelf, getting it down from among the other books. It was a blue covered book with three shining jewels on the front. There were colorful illustrations throughout. It was a book about the days in Valinor before the lies of Morgoth drove a rift between the houses. It was about the great Princes and Ladies of the Noldor: Feanor and his sons Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrad and Amras, Fingolfin and his children Fingon, Turgon, and Aredhel, and Finarfin and his children Finrod, Angrod, Aegnor, and Galadriel. Miril was fascinated by the Elves of old._

_"Read it to me, Elrohir," she demanded, running over with the book to the prince, "Read it!"_

_"Alright, alright, settle down," he told her, "Come on."_

_They walked over to a corner of the Library that was unoccupied and sat down on the floor. Elrohir opened the book and began to read._

"Look," Miril smiled, getting on her tiptoes and reaching up for a book, "it's still here!"

Miril grabbed the blue and jeweled book from her childhood and looked through its pages. She came to her favorite passage. It read all about the Princes of the Noldor. It described them in detail. Miril loved to picture the wondrous elves in her mind.

"I'm going back to bed," Miril yawned after a little while of reminiscing.

She said goodnight to Elrohir and walked herself back to her room which wasn't too far from the Last Homely House. In fact, it was only one house over. Changing into her night-gown, she rolled into bed. With a final yawn, she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
